


First Christmas

by elfin



Series: Knight In Shining Armour [7]
Category: Backstrom (TV)
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Val's never had a proper Christmas....</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

It started over coffee with Lou, and ended with Backstrom buying a Santa Claus costume. 

‘Val’s never had a proper Christmas,’ Lou lamented, sitting outside the coffee shop wrapped in a winter coat and a scarf Backstrom thought Valentine might have given to her. ‘I never gave him one as a child. It’s the one thing I regret above everything else.’ Personally, Everett would have put a whole list of things above that, but at the same time he could imagine the joy in Val’s eyes at having a tree, presents, maybe even a Christmas dinner.

Still, ‘Why are you telling me?’

She looked at him, head cocked to one side, half smiling, half-frowning. ‘Because I have an inkling you might be the one to give him his first Christmas.’ Everett bit his tongue and held his breath. She let him stew for a minute before putting him out of his misery. ‘When I realised what was happening, I thought I minded. Actually, I was mad as hell. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and more importantly I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’ve always been good for each other, and from the changes wrought in you both over the last year, I would say you still are. So while I’m maybe a little queasy about the two of you… I’m no longer mad.’

He breathed again. ‘We both thought you’d be after my balls if you found out.’

‘I was, for a while. But I didn’t go storming over to the barge and demand you stop, did I? I figured Val’s old enough to make up his own mind about who he sleeps with. And even if he wasn’t, God’s honest truth is that I lost the right a long time ago to tell him what to do. Besides, despite it being sort of illegal, you’re undoubtedly better for him than most of the men he’s been with over the years. Are you exclusive?’

Backstrom shrugged. ‘Kind of. We weren’t, for a long time. But he stopped bringing tricks back to the barge and I stopped calling prostitutes. We sort of slipped into it. He still goes to parties and clubs, just a lot less than he did.’

‘And you’ve given up drinking and smoking? Gone on a diet?’

‘It wasn’t all for Val. I was… in trouble, physically. It was when we were all in Cooch County, when you and he dragged me to the lake where Mom’s ashes were scattered…. I realised then that I had everything to live for and I had no idea how to stop myself from losing it.’

She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘I seriously doubt you’re going to lose any more, Sweetheart. Valentine won’t leave you. He’s loved you for longer than I think you know, and clearly more so now. Your team seem to respect you, to like you.’

‘They care for one another, care for us - Val and I. They look out for him as much as I do.’

She smiled at him. ‘I knew I made the right decision when I asked if he could stay with you. Despite your differences.’

‘Did you hope I could change him, shift him onto the straight and narrow?’

She laughed. ‘You think I had any illusions about you being straight? Professionally, I mean. I admit I thought sexually you were strictly women only. Clearly I was wrong about that.’

‘Just Val. He’s the one and only person with a penis I’ve been with.’

The way she looked at him, it was as if she wanted to ask more. But she didn’t. ‘Please, give Val a Christmas this year?’

Backstrom nodded. ‘I’ll do my best.’

~

They caught a case on December 23rd. Backstrom told his team he had to be home for Christmas Eve, so they needed to find out who killed their naked lecturer, posed in the snow outside the college building, and they needed to do it quickly. He’d been hit on the head from behind with a heavy. blunt object, and stabbed in the back while he’d lain on the ground. He’d been naked when he was killed, according to Niedermayer, so they were assuming he’d been chased out of his rooms in the nude and murdered by someone he knew, or at least had been with.

Gravely went for CCTV while Almond interviewed witnesses. They got a description of a man students and staff thought might have been a friend of the murdered man, or more likely a lover, but no one seemed to know a name. On the off chance, Backstrom texted a sketch based on several descriptions to Val, who responded with,

_I haven’t had sex with every man in Portland!_

He supposed he deserved that. He texted an apology and a couple of minutes later, Val came back with, 

_R U investigating Prof Kline’s murder? It’s all over the news_

_Yes. Know him?_

_Of him. I hear he likes to be punished_

Through the open door of his office, he yelled, ‘Val thinks our victim liked to be spanked.’

Gravely came to stand in his doorway. ‘How does he know?’

Backstrom shrugged. ‘How does he know anything? I guess gay men gossip like fishwives.’ As an afterthought, he texted back,

_Word of warning - your Mom knows about us_

Within seconds the response came through,

_????!!!!!_

‘Lieutenant?’ Niedermayer appeared at his side. ‘We might have something.’

~

They got back an hour later, with more witness statements from students but nothing concrete, and Backstrom wasn’t surprised to find Valentine waiting for him in his office.

To Gravely, he said, ‘I need to deal with this.’

She nodded. ‘We’ll go through the statements again, see if we can find connections.’

He closed his office door behind him and took in Val’s self-defensive huddle next to the open window. He immediately regretted his text. He hadn’t meant to make him this afraid. ’Is she mad?’

He sighed, shook his head and closed the space between them. ‘Hey. She’s not mad. I think she was when she first worked it out, but she can see we’re good, she can see you’re happy.’ He put his hands on Val’s shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent you the text, I shouldn’t have told you that way.’

Val visibly relaxed, tension leaving him. ‘When did she tell you?’

‘A week ago. I had my regular appointment and we grabbed some lunch. I promise you, she isn’t mad. Call her if you’re worried.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not worried. I just…. As much as I can’t completely forgive her for my traumatic childhood, it’s not horrible to talk to her now and again.’

‘She’s your Mom. The last thing I want to do is come between you two.’

‘She may be my Mom, but for a long time it was a purely biological relationship. And you know, if she had been mad enough to make me choose, it wouldn’t have even been a decision.’ He dropped the volume of his voice. ‘I love you.’

He let his hands fall to Val’s wrists, finding his pulse points, feeling the beat of his heart under his fingertips. Looking into Val’s eyes, he could see every emotion he recognised mirrored back at him. He’d heard it called eye-fucking. He wondered how long they’d been doing it. ’I need to work,’ he said after a while, and Val nodded. ‘Probably all night.’

‘That’s okay, I’m out tonight anyway.’

‘Christmas Eve?”

‘Christmas Eve would be good.’

‘Great. Now get out of here. You’re too much of a distraction.’

~

When Valentine got home, it was still Christmas Eve, just. Backstrom hadn’t been waiting long but he had managed to put the finishing touches to the barge and get changed. He watched Val take off his coat before looking up, pausing mid-step. 

‘What in the hell are you wearing?’

‘Clown costume.’ He put out his arms. ‘What does it look like?’

The Santa suit was red velvet and white fur, neck line to ankles. He even had the hat, although he’d stopped short of a fake beard over his own five day stubble. 

Valentine started down the stairs slowly, clearly suspicious. ‘Why are you dressed like Santa Claus? Did you draw the short straw for the SCU Christmas party?’

‘You seriously think I’m going out dressed like this?’

‘Then why are you dressed like that?’

He’d known Valentine would be wary. Life had taught him to trust predictability and routine, to question anything out of the ordinary, out of his control.

‘Because it’s Christmas Eve. So, tell me. Have you been naughty or nice?’

Val dropped from the last step, hand lingering on the rail, laughing softly, maybe beginning to join in the game. ‘Naughty. I’ve been really, really naughty.’

‘Then you need to strip for Santa.’

Wrong thing to say. He stopped three paces from the base of the stairs. ’Strip? Is that what Santa does? Climbs down chimneys, leaves presents for the good children and does something else to the bad ones?’

Backstrom grimaced. ‘You have a filthy and corrupted imagination.’

Val smiled and closed up the gap. ’Are you naked under there?’ He touched the front of his jacket and lingered. Backstrom had been pleased with his eBay find; it wasn’t a cheap costume, he’d spent money on it. The velvet was expensive and soft. Once Val relaxed enough to play, it would be worth it.

He teased, ’That is for me to know and you to fantasise about.’

Wiggling his index finger in the air, Valentine asked him, ‘What is all this?’ 

It was a fair question, given the actual Christmas tree standing in the corner, fully decorated and lit with coloured bulbs. There was tinsel draped over the various frames and mirrors, and fairy lights dangling randomly around the place, untidy but still pretty. ‘You haven’t done Christmas for at least seven years, why now?’ 

Backstrom risked a touch to Val’s cheek with one white leather glove. ‘Trust me. There’s no ulterior motive here. I just wanted to do this for you.’

‘For me?’

He nodded. ‘Have you ever had a proper Christmas?’

Val hesitated. ’No. I don’t even know what one is.’

‘Exactly. I thought we could do it right this year. You know; dinner, a tree, tinsel, Santa, presents-‘

‘You bought me presents?’ Finally Backstrom saw a flash of childlike excitement in Val’s eyes.

‘Well, that depends.’

‘On?’

‘How much naughty you can pull back by being extra nice.’ He watched Val’s expression carefully. Everything they’d done together had been within the bounds of what he knew would be considered vanilla by many gay men. Val had never hinted he was into anything more kinky than the occasional foray into cross dressing, and Backstrom was absolutely certain that anything involving restraints was off the cards. He had no intention of ever causing his lover any kind of distress in the bedroom, although he did think the odd spanking might be acceptable now and again, under the right circumstances. ‘I just want you naked.’

Val nodded slowly. ‘Okay.’ He pulled his jumper off over his head and kicked off his shoes at the same time. Straightening, catching Backstrom’s eye, he unfastened his jeans slowly and removed them along with his socks and briefs in one practised movement. 

‘I’ve never known anyone get naked faster than you,’ Everett chuckled, and it broke the knot of tension. Val laughed and stepped into his arms.

The sound he made, when Backstrom enveloped him in velvet and fur, made it worth every dime. ‘Oh, my God, this is…’ He could feel Val’s breath, warm on his neck, hands burying themselves in the material of the jacket. He’d planned where to stand deliberately, and was able to lift Valentine bodily, turn and dump him on the edge of the counter top, so that not only could he wrap his arms around Backstrom’s neck, he could get his legs around his waist and trap his dick in the fur lining the edges of the suit.

‘How does it feel?’

‘Exquisite.’ All the suspicion was gone, replaced by arousal. ‘It’s incredible.’

‘Think this is why people fuck plushies?’

Valentine laughed again, music to Backstrom’s ears, the only music he liked. He stroked gloved fingers down the length of Val’s spine.

'I never thought Santa could be so sexy,' he murmured quietly. 

Backstrom shrugged. ’Most are pervs.'

'Most?'

'All. Grown men dressing in red velvet and white fur?'

'Getting boys to sit in their laps?'

'Exactly.' Desperate to feel bare skin under his hand, he removed his left glove with his teeth, watching Val watching him do it. Then he spread warm fingers across the bare back and shoulders, hugging him tighter. ’You feel amazing.'

A little breathless, Val responded with, ’I think I could come like this.’

‘I’m not sure coming all over Santa’s suit would be considered nice,’ he murmured with a smile, but the idea made his own erection twitch in the baggy red pants. He could feel Val’s mouth on his neck and turned into the kiss, sliding his tongue across pliant lips, at the same time reaching his gloved right hand under Val’s thigh to cup his balls in leather covered fingers, teasing at sensitive skin. Valentine growled, deepening the kiss, changing it from something slow to something hungry.

Dragging his hand upwards, Backstrom caressed Val’s shaved groin, flat stomach and chest, gently tweakIng first one nipple then the other, causing him to squirm against the suit, sliding their erections together, separated by velvet. 

Val's sudden climax surprised them both. He made a low sound that flared along Everett’s cock, dug his fingers into the fur edges of the Santa jacket and clung to Everett until the tremors subsided. Then he rested his head on one red shoulder, breathing deep. 

When he eventually sat up, Backstrom took off his floppy Santa hat and put in on Val's head, ignoring the protests as his messed up the product laden hair. Val reached for the bobble and brought it to the side of his neck like a shy school girl. 

'Have I been a nice boy, Santa?’

Backstrom shuddered. ‘Don’t do that. I feel like a cradle snatcher half the time as it is.’

‘I told you-‘

‘I know. But I am old enough to be your father even if I’m not.’

‘I don’t care about that.’

‘And I’m eternally grateful that you don’t.’ 

He let go of Val long enough to pull off the second glove and drop it to the floor before getting his hands back on the body he couldn’t get too familiar with. Val’s hands brushed the front of the jacket, sliding down to the pants, tracing the length of his erection. He moaned, embarrassingly loud. He expected the touch to become something more, but Val just stroked his knuckles downwards and light fingertips upwards; light and teasing. He tried to push into the touch but whenever he did, Val paused.

‘Oh God….’ He tried to stay still, so that Val would keep touching him, keep stroking. He could feel his orgasm building like the change in the air before a storm. He reached for the white bobble of the santa hat, pressing it against Val’s neck, tracing the shell of his ear with one thumb. Leaning in, he touched his mouth to Val’s, tongue sliding between parting lips, licking into the wet heat. 

Valentine’s fingers went lower on the next slide down, cupping his balls in velvet, other hand sliding back up the length of his cock; slowly, applying pressure. Backstrom came so hard his vision blurred for a second or two and his knees threatened to give way.

‘You are so good.’ It was not even close to what he wanted to say, but he didn’t have the words.

‘Hey, you’re the one in the Santa suit, which was a genius idea, by the way.’

Everett thought he should come clean. ‘It was your mom’s idea.’

Val’s eyes widened. ‘My mom suggested you dress up as Santa and jerk me off in the kitchen?’

‘No! No. She wanted me to give you a proper Christmas.’

‘I do appreciate your interpretation of that.’

‘I’ve got the ingredients to do Christmas dinner, I think, and instructions from Gravely so we don’t burn everything.’ That made Val laugh. 

‘You did all this for me.’

‘It’s not much.’ He shook his head. ‘Groceries, a tree, decorations, Santa costume off eBay.’ He stroked the velvet hat and whispered, ‘I would die for you.’

Val reached for him, wound his arms around his neck and hugged him, murmuring in his ear, ‘Let’s go to bed.’

~

They huddled together under the sheets and blankets, Val’s burrowed against Backstrom, staving off the cold. Backstrom’s Santa costume was strewn between the living room and Val’s room. There was an oversized, red sock, bulging with gifts, hanging on one corner at the foot of the bed which Val had been ridiculously excited to spot. 

It was a freezing night, the deck of the barge would be iced over by now. But the wood burner out in the living area was keeping the main barge toasty and they’d left the door to Val’s room open. The fight they’d had for the covers had been more about physical contact than needing to stay warm, but the heat they’d managed to generate was nice.

Despite all that, Val’s feet on his shins were like ice blocks. ’Why are your feet so cold?’ Everett complained.

‘Because you haven’t warmed them up.’

‘I thought I’d warmed up all of you.’

‘Most of me.’ Val wriggled closer, head against his lover’s chest.

‘Every time you move you let in the cold.’

‘Want to get closer.’

Backstrom pushed his arm under Val at his waist and tugged him around until his back was to Everett’s front and he could tuck all the bedding in around them. ‘Now lie still.’

Valentine fell silent for a while, and he thought he’d maybe fallen asleep. But finally he asked, in a quiet voice, ‘What were your Christmases like when you were a kid?’

Closing his eyes, nuzzling the back of Val’s head, Backstrom replied, ‘Better than yours.’

‘Tell me.’

‘There isn’t much to tell. I got presents, same as my brothers. Blue wasn’t that much of a monster. He made an effort for dinner, our Grandparents used to come round, but the air was always tense. We were allowed to stay up late on Christmas Eve and get up early on Christmas Day. It was probably the one day of the year we all made an effort to be nice to one another.’

‘What are your brothers like, apart from being absolute bastards when they were children?’

‘Arthur’s a farmer, married with two kids. Jonah’s a teacher, married with a son. Phillip has three daughters. He’s divorced and lost his job a couple of years ago. I think Blue supports him at the moment.’

‘I asked what they’re like.’

‘Assholes. They’re still assholes, they’re just grown up assholes with families.’

‘So… I won’t be meeting them.’

‘I’m sorry, Val. Sorry that our family is a bunch of homophobic dicks.’

Valentine squeezed his hand. ‘I’ve got you. You’re all the family I need.’

‘You’ve got your mom too. And she loves you enough to ask your half-brother slash lover to give her son the Christmas she never could.’

Val bent his head and kissed his hand. ‘You’re giving me the Christmas she never could. Can we leave Lou out of it?’

‘Absolutely. Now go to sleep or you won’t get your Christmas presents.’

~

When he woke in the morning, it was to Val standing at the foot of the bed, naked except for the hat from Backstrom’s Santa costume, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and balancing a short stack of pancakes in the other.

‘Morning, Santa,’ he smiled, and Everett blinked a couple of times, committing the sight to memory. He wished he could take a photograph on his phone and look at it whenever he felt the world was ganging up on him, because at some time - one he couldn’t recall - he must have done something utterly angelic or saintly to deserve Valentine in his life.

‘Morning, elf.’ He shifted until he was sitting up against the wall, reaching for the mug and the plate. ‘Or should that be Santa’s Little Helper?’

‘You’re only getting breakfast because I want to find out what’s in the sock.’ He winked and sauntered out, returning a few seconds later with his own coffee and breakfast, kneeling on the mattress, shifting across to Backstrom’s side. ‘Can I see what’s in the sock? Can I? Can I?’

‘Child.’ He leaned in and kissed Val’s neck. ‘Merry Christmas.’

Val turned his head, caught his mouth and kissed him. ‘Merry Christmas, Everett.’

Watching him unwrap his presents just underlined what Lou had told him about never having given her son a proper Christmas. He’d found out Val’s favourite brands of his favourite things and bought those: aftershave, kohl, chocolate, vodka. But he’d picked something else up too, wrapped it first and dropped it to the bottom of the sock. Val loved every gift, judging by the kisses Backstrom was getting, but when he reached the last one, it rendered him speechless.

‘Jesus, Everett, it’s beautiful.’

‘I thought you might have an actual appreciation for antiques, beyond their monetary value.’ He’d found the pendant in a store after they’d arrested the owner for receiving and selling stolen goods. He’d left the price of the gold piece in the till, in cash, actually wanting to pay for it because as soon as he’d seen it, he’d known Val would like it. An inch in diameter, it was a delicate circle of gold, criss-crossed by an arrow and a bow. The detail was exquisite. Backstrom had put it on a gold chain, long enough that Val could tuck the pendant into his T-shirt if he wanted.

‘I love it. Thank you.’ He handed it to Backstrom and turned, exposing his neck. Everett fastened the chain before kissing him, just below his ear, tracing the line of muscle down to his shoulder with his mouth.

‘You’re welcome.’

He surprised Backstrom by bouncing off the bed, giving him a brief and beautiful view of his ass. ’I got you something.’ He lifted a wrapped parcel from the top drawer of the dresser and presented it to him, coming back to the bed. Everett stared at the present in his hands, wondering when he’d last been given a gift on Christmas Day. ‘Don’t get all emotional.’ Spoken gently. ‘Just open it.’

With childlike excitement, Backstrom tore open the paper and realised he was holding his breath. The yellow and gold box in his hands said ‘Breitling’ across the top.

‘Before you ask, no, it isn’t stolen, and no, it isn’t a fake.’

He lifted the top of the box, gazing wide eyed at the gold watch with its simple face and brown leather strap. ‘Val… how did you…?’

Valentine reached for the watch, lifted it out of the box and handed it to Backstrom, back face-up so he could read the engraved letters: ‘Lv U EB. Vx’ Then he raised his eyes to meet Everett’s. ‘How did I afford it? Do you know how much some of the stuff in this boat is worth now I’ve sat on it for a while?’ Backstrom had an idea. Paquet had said the chessboard they’d played on was worth twenty grand and that was over a year ago. ‘I just sold the right piece to the right buyer for the right price.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Say you like it.’

‘I… I love it.’ He let Valentine fasten the strap around his left wrist. The leather was soft, the watch the perfect weight. ‘Thank you.’ He reached for Valentine who climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. ‘What the hell did I do to get so lucky?’ he murmured as Val’s teeth gently nipped his earlobe.

‘Saved my life.’

‘I did not. You saved you own. I just gave you a room and a roof. Sort of.’

‘You gave me somewhere I was safe. And you never asked for anything in return. You let me store stuff here and never asked where it had come from. You let me bring a parade of guys back and apart from the odd inappropriate remark, you said nothing.’

‘You weren’t my charge, Val, you were my lodger.’

‘Still. Thank you.’

Val swept his tongue over Everett’s bottom lip, pressing into his mouth. No matter how sated his libido seemed these days, having Val anywhere near him made him hard. Having him naked in his lap, with all that skin to touch, was irresistible. Except that he had a stray and sudden thought.

‘How long is a large turkey going to take to cook in our oven?’

Val groaned softly and bit his shoulder gently. ‘Given how it burns fish fingers and leaves fries raw, anywhere between two and twenty four hours. Don’t worry, we’ll eat at some point today.’

~

It took five hours, and by some miracle they didn’t burn the bird, or the roast potatoes. The vegetables were almost perfect and the gravy didn’t have lumps. Everett had even bought crackers, which led to them wearing three cheap paper hats each and reading silly jokes to one another as they sat and ate at the table. They shared a bottle of non alcoholic wine and spent the afternoon watching Christmas movies, eating Christmas cake and cheese until both were so stuffed they couldn’t move.

‘One hell of a year,’ Backstrom commented, apropos of nothing, and Valentine nodded his agreement, apparently lost in the plot of Bad Santa.

Val did say, ’He kinda reminds me of you,’ and Everett assumed he was referring to Billy Bob Thornton’s lead character, a bad-mouthed drunk, ‘the old you.’

‘I haven’t changed that much.’

‘You really have.’

He let it go. ‘Do you think we can make next year a little less… operatic?’

Slowly, Val shook his head. ‘I seriously doubt it.’ He turned from the movie and looked at him, curiosity in his eyes. ‘Would you really want it to be?’

Backstrom smiled. ‘Absolutely.’

Leaning between their chairs, Val kissed his cheek. ‘Me neither.’


End file.
